


A Lexical Concerto In Three Movements

by museaway



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-12
Updated: 2003-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A more 'classical' approach to Clex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lexical Concerto In Three Movements

// _first movement_

He stares into the mirror, pale pale head, purple beneath his eyes, and he feels so young right now. Young and plain. And he can't understand how anyone could ever find this beautiful.

Feels cold. There's a chill in the air, and his head's naked, and there isn't anyone here to hold close.

Why? Why do people leave? He doesn't understand. Only twenty-three, and he doesn't understand. Lost so many, and he can't grasp it. Doesn't want to. Doesn't think he'll be able to handle the answer.

Acts impermeable, yes, because that's how he's survived. But there are moments when he can feel his foundations crumbling, and he's afraid that if he doesn't find something to stabilize him soon, everything he knows will wash away.

Unless he's the poison that makes everything wither to begin with.

.

Thinks that maybe it's better not to love at all than to love wholly and risk destruction. Never let them get close. Believes in marriage for convenience, and sex for the sake of fucking. But not in promises and not in happily ever after.

Leaves fairytales for another lifetime.

.

Tries not to miss them so very much.

&;

// _second movement_

Lex watches the boy sleep in the adjacent chair and settles back into the leather with glass in hand and brandy down his throat and closes his eyes against all of it, because maybe this is just a dream, and it will all be over when he wakes up. Perhaps he's dreamt it all. Perhaps the Porsche is parked in the garage with hood intact and roof in place. And perhaps the past two years weren't real at all, and he's just the best fiction writer this side of Metropolis.

Maybe Clark's eyes aren't really that green, and maybe his hair isn't this black and soft between Lex's fingers where he's got it now because his hand has stretched across to where Clark sleeps and is tangled in his tresses, and it's the best high he's known in a long time.

Clark's lips are flushed and soft against his thumb, parted slightly, warm puffs of breath escaping every other heartbeat. Eyelashes splayed, dark lace against his skin. Pink cheeks from too much sun. Sweat along his forehead where little bits of hair stick and curl into it.

.

There has never been anything more beautiful than this, Lex thinks. His hand lingers long as he wishes his mouth could, then falls away and hangs limp beside the chair.

This is real.

.

In the background a clock ticks away the moment.

&;

// _third movement_

Clark's hands on the wheel, the car is barreling down the road at more than a hundred miles an hour, and Lex is pressed back in the seat with his eyes half open and a smile breaking open across his face as Clark yells his excitement into the air.

It's dark and cold and midnight, and Clark's shouting out the window at cornfields while Lex watches.

Watches the exhilaration radiate.

Watches for the flash of teeth.

Watches the way the breeze catches his hair and makes it fly.

Watches the way he turns his head and catches Lex's eyes for just a second.

Watches the blood creep up his cheeks.

.

And this, this is everything he's ever hoped and dreamed and feared all at once wrapped up in this single interval of time. Blink and it's over. He keeps his eyes wide open and stares in wonder.

Smiles at Clark, who smiles at him. Eye meeting eye. Just like that.

Feels the rush of adrenaline surging through his veins, and his stomach unfolds a new tingling crawl of hope; heart beats hard and loud.

.

And maybe there are poisoned apples and princes after all.


End file.
